One
by PineapplesExpress
Summary: Cross over between Johnny Got His Gun and Hetalia Alfred F. Jones is a prisoner of his own mind where a land mine has taken a everything that he needs to be seen as 'human' and only wants to be him again.
1. Chapter 1

Silence and darkness. Darkness and silence everywhere, no light or sound. A body was being breath for itself as a restless disfigured man covered in bandages and a hospital gown, trying to move what was left of his face. Something was restraining him from the movement. A mask tightens around where a jaw, a mouth and a nose should be at. What has happened to this poor, poor man?

Hey, kid, did you ate a bowl of landmine instead of those tasty burgers your mom use to make when you was at home before you ended up here?

He swore he was out in a dug out just yesterday but it seems forever to him. His mind was working right, he try to open his eyes. Oh god, where are his eyes at? Now he couldn't see worth a damn. How long has he been here? Yesterday, couple of hours, few weeks, years even? Hell, he didn't know.

He tries to speak but nothing was spoken about in the air. He lost his ability to speak nothing but a tight cloth mask covering half of his face. Where was he? What happened to him? Something terrible made him this way. Was it a grenade, a missile or a land mine? He didn't remember that either only memories when he drifts off into daydreaming or sleep. He couldn't tell the difference. He always felt like he was in a dream, more like a nightmare. Being confined into nothing but darkness wondering where the hell you're at, what time is it, day and of the year. He just laid there thinking, thinking, thinking and more thinking. It what he did anyway trying to figure what where he was at but only drifting off into the darkness then feeling himself away from it only to see more of it.

Why wouldn't anybody answer the phone? Just going to let it ring, ring, ring all night long. "Alfred, up and at them." He was there being sick as hell in that storage room hearing that phone ringing the night away as he was being sick working, making his way to that phone pushing away boxes that carried loaves of bread. He passed Feliciano and Lovino and the other guys as the images of their faces bounced around in his head as he finally made his way to that phone.

He went into the office standing in the entry way. "Hey, boss, just got a phone call my dad past away, I need to get home."

"Past away? Damn kid, that's too bad and yeah, sure. I'll have Matthew drive you." Matthew drove the truck since it was raining and because they were in Los Angeles. As they drove past old houses then down the street and stopped right in front of a house he went into the glassed-room porch where his two sisters were crying with their mother. His mother stood up walking him into the kitchen. "Called anyone"

"Yes, should arrive here any moment." His mom was somewhat calm about this situation as the tears weren't that hard coming out from her eyes. A knock was on the door two as two men in white attire carried a stretcher and headed up the stairs then came back down carrying a man around his 5o's laying there on the clean sheet. I won't forget you dad. Sweet dreams and night.

How come that god damn phone won't stop ringing? It was starting to fade into the darkness. Was he dreaming? He wasn't but he was. Then he felt his body being jerked back against the bed sweating as there was another electric shock given to him. There wasn't a single pulse in his ear. Oh god, he can't even hear his own heart. He was deaf. Deaf as it can be to where he can't even hear his own heartbeat. His ears completely blown off from that explosion sending him into this. No, eyes mouth and ears. The pain embedded into him as he lay there in solitude thinking. At least he didn't hear a machine gun firing constantly whistling throughout, bombs everywhere, orders being shout men dying. Planes flying over you dropping bombs onto cities, roads.

He felt himself getting dizzy then blacking in and out back into the darkness a sharp pain entering through him. It wouldn't go away from it. The pain was so terrible, he wanted to scream and shout getting away from it. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. You got no eyes, kid, what's the point of crying if you got no eyes to shed tears? The dizziness came back to him and went into the darkness.

Once again welcomed by the darkness that has confined him. How long was he out? Felt like years for him. But he felt something odd with him. A bandage wrapping around where an arm use to be at. There was no movement of fingers or a hand or an arm. My god, they cut his arm off. Then another bandage on his other arm. Both arms gone. Wait. My necklace. Where is it? That necklace is important to me. Maria gave it to me. What did you do to it? You bastards, you took my eyes, face, arms and now the necklace?

"Alfred I don't want you to go!" Maria looked at him as Ludwig hurried them out of bed. "Hurry up damn kids, he's leaving today. If he misses the train may as well be shot at by the Americans instead of the Germans."

The train station was filled with parting sons heading onto the trains for war. Flags waving everywhere. A small band playing patriotic songs. His mom was there, his two sisters, Maria and Ludwig standing behind him as he went aboard on the train. "Don't go, Alfred! Please don't go!" He only just looked at her as Ludwig pulled her away from the departing train. "Good-bye, Maria."


	2. Chapter 2

The darkness soon welcomed him back in the cold silence he would forever be waking up to. The darkness he would soon call home. No more of Maria's soft kisses to wake him when she'll come over early in the morning on Sundays to wake him up, so his and her family could go to the morning service at church. No more of the smell of eggs being cooked on the stove, or one of his sisters yelling at him to get up-just the darkness to welcome him.

Something was missing. He felt it, he could make to barely no movements in both of his arms. The doctors had finally removed both of his arms. This man has never felt so empty in his life. He tried making movement on his lower half; nothing. Nothing, not a single thump, nothing. The damned doctors removed his legs as well. If he could see what he looked like on the outside where light was at, he wouldn't even be able to recognize himself.

On the outside, he looked like something…He didn't look human, he was just nothing. Just nothing that was being kept alive for the sick amusement for others. No arms, no legs. Just stumps that were covered in wrapped bandages and a hospital gown to cover up what was left of him.

He was scared, scared of what was happening to him. Why wasn't he at home?  
"Mother, mother where are you?!" His mind screamed at the darkness, he wanted to see the light again not the darkness. He just want the feel of his legs and arms and everything that made him, him.

"Father, what's democracy?" It was one of those damn dreams again, he couldn't tell the difference anymore. Hell, it could be his only escape from that darken hell hole. "Well, son," his father looked old where the creases in his skin can make it obvious or stress to keep the family alive and well, "it's where every man will forget their only son." He only blinked at the man, he didn't get the concept. But sure as hell he could get it now.

The memory looked hazy though, his father's face was blurry, but he could make it out alright. They were in the shed right before they went on the camping. Oh, this was where he had lost his father's fishing pole in the lake. He felt horrible by, it was a while before he could even talked to his son. He knew his dad was dead, but seeing his face gave him some sort of feeling. Maybe he was dead, this was his hell. But why would God sent him to a place like this?


End file.
